There's A Fly in My Soup!

4.

People were a little surprised to see me. Or perhaps more surprised to see me in a dress. And I was surprised that Mr Callaghan hadn't employed one of the people in his imaginary queue to take over my position. I wasn't born yesterday, anyone could tell he was trying to intimidate me. And he wasn't the first, nor the last guy to puff his chest out and state his authority. My whole life, men had tried to trample all over me, and some succeeded, but I vowed since taking on the kids and my brother that if I couldn't fight for what was right then I might as well admit defeat and be a miserable doormat for the rest of my life. I didn't want Sarah having a pathetic wallflower for an Aunt. I held my head high and got on with my job, the job I'd worked so long and so hard for, and lunch service blurred by, the kind of fare I could throw together blind folded. And for the first time Gerry actually spoke to me. Maybe I'd earned a little respect from him, for my little stand off yesterday. And when I say Gerry spoke to me, I mean he really spoke to me, without grunting. He was monosyllabic as a rule. Kevin had this theory that he'd emerged from the deep freeze, some caveman from millions of years ago, and he hadn't yet acquired the fine art of conversation. The theory, however out there, made sense.

'Glad you didn't let that sod push you around.' Gerry muttered, gruffly.

'Thanks Ger.'

'He's been lording it up, shouting orders and bollocking people since you walked out. Never met a bloke more grumpy than that bastard.'

You mean other than you, Gerry? I was saying nothing.

'He won't last.' He slammed the door of his locker shut, shoving his arms into a black bomber jacket. It was a close fit. Gerry isn't a small man. He's a patisserie whizz, and it shows. 'Some o' them bell boys got laid off today though.' He continued, positioning his hands on his hips. 'There might just be a riot on our hands.'

'Dya know if....is Kevin....'

'Aye. Saw the poor sod earlier. It ain't right. People getting fired here there and ev'ry place.....'

I left Gerry there, thrusting through the double doors into the corridor. I had to find Kevin.

My heart sank as I remembered the first month of his employment. We'd just been taken over by a hospitality company with a range of hotels, spas and leisure centres across the UK. They were a shoddy outfit, to put it mildly. Management never showed their faces unless we had celebrities or politicians staying for the weekend. And Kev had never received a contract of employment. I just had this bad feeling that made me want to slap Trent Callaghan's smug face. He was the type of bloke that sailed through university, all paid for by Mummy and Daddy, only to find himself fronting a cash heavy family business. The kind of thing you could just fall into, never having worked a day in the industry in your life.

I got Kevin this job six months ago, and even Andrew could vouch for the fact that he's never been late.

Well, apart from the time when I left him at a bar with a rugby team and he stumbled into work an hour late the next day. He's only human.

Marianne didn't know where he was, nor did Briar, the stupidly beautiful receptionist who could easily outshine A list actresses. I doubled back on myself, ambushing kitchen staff and then Marianne's brigade of downtrodden looking cleaning staff.

Andrew.

He'd know.

I didn't bother knocking. Putting my weight behind the door handle, I forced open the office.

'Excuse me, but this is a private convocation!' Andrew blustered, from where he was perched precariously on the edge of his grand mahogany desk. My eyes were immediately distracted. The Aussie bloke from earlier sat opposite Andrew, his blue-green Aqua eyes burnt every inch of flesh they traced, all the way from my feet to my face. I don't know how much time lapsed, but I'd quite happily have stood there all day, feeling his gaze sizzle every last morsel of my flesh.